


Hello?

by MillieMay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of phone calls set after 3x04</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My homegirl Gwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+homegirl+Gwyn).



> Hello! Don't mind me I'm new here to ao3 but I have been a long time spectator. I'd love it if anyone could give me tips on how in the hell I use this website because I have only had serious experience with ffn and some testing with tumblr. Anywho I sincerely hope you enjoy. This was inspired by Adele's new song Hello and made as a special anniversary gift for when I met one of my best friends Gwyn

"Hello? It’s me.”

It seems to be the thousandth time that she’s called this number. Always receiving the same beeping voicemail. “Hello Dr. Gardner, please leave your name and number at the beep. Have a nice day.”

She throws the disposable phone across the room watching it crash against the wall. The third one to suffer her wrath in the past week. It’s not like it matters. She practically has a bank account dedicated to the damned things.

She’s not sure why she is still trying. The store had erupted in an explosion. It was likely none of them had made it out of the building. Just a bunch of bastards willing to die for what they were doing.

Her eyes fall on Hunter who was drunkenly passed out on the makeshift couch. It had tears in the cushions and was uncomfortable as hell. Most of the reason why she made him sleep on it.

Her throat clogs with red hot anger wanting nothing more to beat him into oblivion. Wanting to scream at him, scream at herself for ever letting him get into this, for ever subjecting herself to this again. Tai chi had silenced the demons for a while but now her palms burn from the effort to keep her fists closed and not harm him. Crescent shaped marks label her palms where her nails had dug in too deep, breaking the pale skin.

She took her aggression out on training, throwing her fists at the punching bag screaming with each one until her lungs burned and her knuckles torn and marked with her own blood.

She still didn’t cry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Her voice echos through the payphone. Her hand carefully placed on the gun latched to her side.

“May?” A woman’s voice echoes from the other side. “May oh my god is that you?”

“Skye what are you doing in Coulson’s office?” Her eyebrow peaks up looking around the outside to make sure she wasn’t being watched.

“AC is out. He’s with Rosalind.” She can practically hear the eyeroll in the younger girl’s voice.

“Well tell him I need to talk to him soon.” She moves to hang up the phone.

“Wait! May! Please where are you?”

“California.” She answers shortly watching a mother dance with a small girl in a bright red jacket.

“Are you coming back? I heard about Andrew…”

Her voice catches in her throat, the familiar feeling of her own words threatening to strangle her creeping out of nowhere.

“May? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Daisy’s voice breaks along with the loud laughter of the child. Tears burn behind her eyes as she tries to blink them away.

“Soon Skye.”

“Daisy. I go by Daisy Johnson now.”

“Goodbye Daisy.” I say hanging up the phone before she can utter another word. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hello? How are you?” She rolls her eyes at the fake greeting rolling off her own tongue.

“Good. How’s things going with Hunter?” The male’s voice answers.

“Depends. He’s drank himself into a stupor almost every day this week. Any time I get near him he’s either murmuring curses and ways he’ll kill Ward.”

“Bobbi’s worried.”

“Tell her not to worry about it.” I answer.

“Why?”

“Because I’m kicking him off the mission.”

“Melinda that’s my call, not yours.”

“What do you expect me to do Phil? He’s either inebriated or unconscious. He’s no help here.”

“Is it just that you’re blaming him for Andrew’s death?”

“Not him.”

“Melinda…”

“It’s gotten too personal for him.”

“And it hasn’t for you?” She stares at his unconscious form sprawled across the table, a bottle spilling onto the smooth mahogany. 

“That’s different. He accidentally killed two people. It’s messing him up Phil.”

“And taking him off of this mission wouldn’t?”

“If it saves the life of another innocent person then it’s worth it.”

“He snuck out of here before what makes you think he won’t do it again?”

“Make Bobbi watch him. He needs to recover from the fight anyway.”

“Fight?” 

“Initiation into Hydra.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Melinda.”

“I took care of them. They weren’t even able to touch me.”

“Good.” She can practically hear the satisfaction in his voice.

“We’re at the old mechanics shop just north of Sacramento. He should be out for the next five or so hours.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be gone.”

“Melinda you can’t keep running. They’re all worried. Skye especially.”

“Daisy.”

“Right.” Silence falls heavy on the air. “May… take care of yourself.”

“I will. So who’s Rosalind?” I ask with a small smile.

“So Daisy told you?”

“Not exactly. She didn’t sound too pleased about it either though.”

“It’s a government team searching for inhumans. They’re helping us and she doesn’t trust them. Rosalind is their leader.” She nods in understanding.

“Can you blame her? She hasn’t exactly had a lasting friendship with the government.”

“Melinda. Are you okay?”

“Phil I said don’t worry about me.”

“You’re changing the subject like you want to not talk about yourself.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Andrew.”

“I’m not wrong though.”

“I have to go.”

“May.”

“Goodbye Coulson.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hello? I’m sorry.” Tears slip down her cheeks after she’s listened to the voicemail once more. It was her fault that he had died. She never should have let this happen. She never should have let him back in. She should have let him move on.

Her throat burns as if someone had just poured acid down it. Here she was sitting at a local hotel while her ex husband was being buried just a while away. She couldn’t attend. She couldn’t bring herself too when it felt as if she had pulled the trigger herself. She wouldn’t be able to face his parents grieving over their lost son or the students mourning their favorite teacher. Hell, she couldn’t even face her own reflection.

The shrill ringing of her phone breaks the silence. The number appears as unknown, the photo a simple question mark. She presses the phone to her ear listening as the voice from the machine speaks back to her in different words.

“Hello? It’s me.”


End file.
